


Priceless Pastoral

by irrationalno



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Gen, Intimacy, Lup is independently wealthy, M/M, Slice of Life, bonus Zaza, general ot4-ish feel-good vibes, off-hand existential crisis, off-page softgore, or is he??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irrationalno/pseuds/irrationalno
Summary: Goemon gets hurt. Lupin gets help.





	

One week after the bloodbath, Goemon opened his eyes and made some lifelike sounds. Lupin wasn’t there when it happened, but Zenigata told him everything. Lupin nodded, took notes, and spent the rest of the day making phone calls and putting everything together.

Two more weeks later, Fujiko and Jigen showed up in their borrowed outfits at the appointed time with an ambulance. Zenigata found somewhere else to be, and they managed to escape the hospital without any property damage or casualties. Lupin fumbled with his phones and with the medical charts, nerves singing adrenaline, and then he lay down in the patient compartment across the aisle from Goemon.

The siren blared all the way to their newest base, which was actually on a piece of land owned “by the family” (as Lupin non-explained to Jigen), but Goemon slept through it all.

Lupin quickly got used to the sight of Goemon’s sleeping face. The doctors had told Zenigata that all he needed now was rest, and lots of it.

Lupin still read books on nursing, looked up medical journals, and tried to pace Goemon, who would rush his recovery if allowed to. Without really planning to he’d become something of a caregiver. _Who would’ve thought?_ But someone had to do it, and Goemon had no other family they knew of. Goemon didn’t make a particularly trying patient either, but he was full of questions.

“I’m fine,” said Goemon, the first and last time Lupin helped him into the bath, “But Lupin, what about your own wounds?” “Lupin, did any of them escape alive?” said Goemon when Lupin was cooking off one of Jigen’s recipes (his kanji were atrocious). “Lupin, I have a recurring nightmare where I am in a hospital and Zenigata is weeping at my bedside?” said Goemon, padding up behind Lupin in the garden in his house slippers.

“A bullet _grazed_ my arm,” Lupin would reply. “ _A_ bullet.” Then, “No, you made sure of that.” And “Wait, that one isn’t a question…”

Over time, Lupin’s nightly phone calls warmed in tenor. They did a group chat after dinner, something they’d never done before, when Goemon found it easier to talk, Fujiko waving tearfully at Goemon from a timezone where the sun hadn’t set yet. Jigen was sprawled on a rooftop somewhere, honest-to-god hatless and _beaming_. “Thank you, both of you, I’m sorry for the trouble,” said Goemon, forced to settle for a series of shallow bows.

Goemon had also been forced to settle for the huge bed in the master bedroom, as Lupin categorically refused to let him sleep on a futon on the floor or in a guest room. Goemon didn’t know where Lupin was sleeping, but it _was_ his house and it was a big house.

“He pretty much thinks of you like a son, you know,” Lupin later said, after Zenigata had called him to check in on Goemon’s state, the old inspector’s gruff voice wobbling with emotion. “He was worried, seeing you like that.”

“It’s you he thinks of that way,” said Goemon. “But thank you for the reminder. I must also extend my gratitude to him soon, and perhaps I could write—”

“Yeah, send a card. Season’s greetings,” said Lupin, looking out the window. It was Goemon, so _write_ meant a carefully composed missive on special paper, delivered personally to the ICPO. “I mean, of course you can write. There’s time. After all, Pops isn’t running away.”

Lupin loved the countryside… until sundown. Then the silence and the darkness would drive him crazy and make him long for the endless stimulation of city life.

A yawn had eaten his last few words, and there was no reply, which made Lupin turn around. He was half-expecting to see Goemon asleep already. But Goemon was sitting up against the headboard, leaning against a wall of pillows. The lamp light softened the newly sharpened angles of his face. He’d drawn the damp mass of his hair to one side, and Lupin could almost feel the knob of bone at his neck that protruded when he lowered his head.

He’d pushed Goemon’s hair aside himself, once, when they’d been younger and stupider and Goemon asked him to help him commit ritual suicide.

Lupin hadn’t been able to go through with it. Of course. He chuckled, remembering that Jigen had known right away, and also how frightened Fujiko had been.

 _Good old Goemon_. Goemon with his superhero sword and strange flights of passion. He was no less… inspired than either one of the rest of them, but he made it look adorable. He had his own style, second-hand though it appeared. For Lupin it was a point of pride that he’d won over such a personality, for all that he often didn’t know what to do with him.

“Yet again I endangered you and the others. Yet again my training proved insufficient.”

Lupin sighed. “How old are you now, buddy?”

Goemon looked blankly at him. “I am 29. How is this relevant? I do not believe we should ever stop trying to improve ourselves. There is no age limit for that.”

“Look.” Lupin pulled a chair up. “Of course it’s good to keep learning and improving. We’re career criminals! When you live by your wits you gotta keep updating and adapting. I mean sure I’m pretty much a genius,” and here Lupin was gratified to see Goemon laughing, “But it doesn’t mean I don’t have to work at it, too. And now I’m just saying shit I know you know, but… Goemon, you were, what, 20, 21? When you started working with me.”

Goemon nodded.

“And you…” Lupin knew he was going to say something sappy. It was old age, undeniably he was getting old and even more sentimental than he was prone to be. He could recall with precision the sound Goemon’s body made as he dragged him unconscious from the scene of battle. That meat and bone sound.

He’d catalogued no serious burns, and it was clear that most of the blood that drenched Goemon’s head and torso wasn’t his own. Still, he couldn’t tell if he’d sustained trauma from the blows to his head, or any other internal injuries. Things had moved _fast_.

The decision to let Zenigata take custody of Goemon had been an easy one to make. What wasn’t so easy was the weeks that followed. Though he’d sneaked into the place in disguise a bunch of times, Goemon needed specialised care and he would not do anything that might interfere with the treatment.

Privately he could admit that he’d been terrified. But he guessed the others could tell anyway. Maybe even Pops.

“Lupin…”

Lupin rubbed a hand over his face. He looked at Goemon. “You’ve been around for a while, Goemon. It’d suck if you… you know, if you weren’t. So don’t fucking tell me you let us, let _me_ down. Life throws shit at us we can’t prepare for in training. I’ve let you guys down more than a few times, myself. Hell, I’ve let you guys down every time I pretended to be dead and never let you in on the game. Fuck… I’m 35, and I’m the best at what I do, but I’m not getting any younger, and I’m not invincible. And neither are you. And that’s just how it is, you know? You didn’t endanger us, you nearly fucking _died_ , and all I could do was watch.”

Lupin’s face felt hot after his impromptu rant. He hadn’t even drunk anything all day. His gaze slipped to Goemon’s throat, then his shoulder. Under the loose fabric the flesh was a mass of still-healing scar tissue. Just another addition to the collection. Just an occupational hazard.

Goemon pointed a finger at him, and then his hand stretched out to touch Lupin’s face. Lupin swallowed, but couldn’t help leaning in. Goemon’s hand cupped Lupin’s cheek, then pinched it lightly. “Who are you and what have you done with Lupin III?”

“Was that a joke?” Lupin brought his hand up to cover Goemon’s hand, pressing the cool palm back to his flushed skin. “That _was_ a joke!”

“I thought you’d left me with the police,” said Goemon. “But. Only once, when I panicked. I don’t think I like hospitals, Lupin.”

“Tell me about it,” said Lupin, blinking furiously. “I’d never abandon you like that. Shit. You’ve worked with me all these years and it’s… I thought you knew.”

Goemon traced his thumb across Lupin’s cheek and under his eye, where it was wet. “Forgive me. When I doubt myself, I doubt your loyalty. You’ve believed in me in times when even I didn’t.”

“You gotta make a guy cry?”

Goemon was running his finger down the side of Lupin’s face now; the touch was so pleasing it made Lupin’s toes curl inside his socks. “Where have you been sleeping?”

“In the study. There’s a bed in there. I’m not suffering on the cold hard floor for your sake, don’t worry. Oh, I’ll give you a tour tomorrow. You haven’t even seen the place properly yet. And Fujiko’s driving in tomorrow night. And Jigen the day after that. We’ll have a picnic!”

“Yes, it will be good to see them again, now that…” Goemon’s eyes narrowed. “You said no one was left alive.”

“Yeah.” Lupin licked his lips. “There were just a few little things to take care of. Cleanup. Some housekeeping, know what I’m saying?”

“Since when do you send Fujiko and Jigen to do that kind of work?”

“Since always? But it’s not like that, Goemon. They volunteered.”

Goemon dropped his hand. “Don’t take this as an expression of self-deprecation, but I _have_ caused you all a lot of trouble.”

“You kinda have,” said Lupin. “Thank God I’m not your mom, or you’d be grounded for _life_.”

“I feel like that already.”

Lupin gasped. “What, when you’ve got free run of one of the most exclusive estates in the south of France, and the world’s smartest man is your personal valet? Must be that elite samurai blood talking…”

“Lupin.” Goemon’s hand had closed around his wrist. The grip was strong, spelling only good news to Lupin. It meant he’d been doing things right. That things were going to be all right.

“Sleepy? Hungry? Crap, I’ve worn you out with my chatter, and just when—”

“No and no. Lupin, stay.”

Goemon was looking at him with clear eyes, and the nakedness of the look was totally disarming. When Goemon released him, Lupin slid carefully onto the bed, crossing over Goemon’s legs to sit on the other side. There were places on his body that still hurt, Lupin knew, and it was as much of a strange slow dance to negotiate around as a laser tripwire grid.

Goemon turned to meet him so that they were more or less facing each other.

“After I regained consciousness the first time… the night shift nurse,” said Goemon, eyes drifting shut. Lupin was stroking the back of his head. “I wasn’t conscious all the time, but she... I know she was very kind to me. I wonder if she knew what I’ve done.”

Lupin hadn’t told anyone yet, but he was footing the hospital bill this time. He knew, he _knew_ he was getting soft. What a cliché. What next, rescue a princess from an evil count and not even make off with the treasure? No, the plot of his life was different. Grittier. Unmapped. He wasn’t in this business because he wanted a fat pension and health insurance like your average salaryman. The end, whatever it was going to be, wasn’t going to be pretty, he’d bet on that.

But that was him. That was just what his choice was about. The others, though? _Goemon_?

“I know what you’ve done and I love you,” said Lupin, before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

Goemon had gone still.

Lupin’s hand was buried in Goemon’s hair, and his fingertips couldn’t stop moving in that one soothing pattern.

“I know,” said Goemon. Having said this, he nudged himself the tiniest bit closer to Lupin.

If it was possible for a breath to be exhaled with one’s entire body, then that was what Lupin did.

“Good,” said Lupin, ruffling Goemon’s hair, positively mussing it up. “Thought you were gonna say something like, “ _doesn’t count if it’s you”_.”

“Mmn.”

“Mmn? What’s that in a human language?” Lupin mirrored Goemon’s earlier caress, tracing down the planes of his face. “You ever see something called _Neko Zamurai_?”

“Mmnnn.”

“Now you’re just doing it on purpose. Man, why are you so cute?”

“Lupin!”

“The secret’s out. That’s the real reason I keep you around. We’ve got brains, brawn, beauty, and then there’s the cute factor. That’s our Goemon-chan.”

“Who’s the beauty?”

“What kind of question is _that_ , who’s the beauty?” Lupin was obscurely satisfied with the knowledge that at nearly 30 years of age, Goemon didn’t have a problem with the nickname. “It’s me, of course.”

Goemon seemed to give his declaration some thought. “And who’s the brawn?”

“Well, it’s this guy,” said Lupin, lifting his hand for a second to flex his biceps. “Give ya three guesses for brains.”

“Lupin.”

Goemon didn’t resist when Lupin got into his space even more, crouching over him with his upper body. Folding him into an air hug. “I know,” Lupin whispered, no longer smiling. “Too clingy. I’m just happy, okay? I was scared.”

“I don’t mind,” said Goemon. “Not right now.”

“Lucky me.”

His stupid superior brain supplied him with another old memory, where he held Goemon’s torture-battered body in his shaking arms.

He’d been shocked, but they’d never even talked about it after he and Jigen took him home. Lupin had shared experiences with each and all of them that stank of imminent and statistically probable death, and he couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was about Goemon’s demonstration of defiant loyalty that had so undone him.

It had been so long ago, too. It was weird to think how long ago. If only—

“Lupin?”

“Yeah?”

“From tomorrow I would like to take up the sword again. It’s been too long.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Lupin. “Not literally though. You know your body best, but… you start slow, ‘kay?”

“Mm. We could spar sometime.”

“ _Sometime_ , sure.” Lupin swept Goemon’s hair off his shoulder, patting him gently. “You really like that stuff, don’t you?”

“Sparring? It’s… useful.”

“Got it. And cuddling’s useless.” Lupin stroked his back through the cloth of his sleeping shirt, keeping his touch feather-light. The muscle was warm and alive under his fingers.

“‘Useless’ things can be good,” said Goemon, and he smiled.

“I know, babe,” said Lupin.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my working title for this one-shot was "Lie Low at Lupin's". i'm sorry/not sorry. anyway this is inspired by thoughts about the Lupin/Goemon dynamic from some intense Red Jacket episodes and the new, intense Goemon movie that i haven't seen yet oops (read a review, verdict: intense).


End file.
